


Who's who?

by NoOrdinarySouthernGirl



Series: Shit Happens [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A little late, Assassins or Targets, BAMF John Watson, Friday the 13th - Freeform, SFPAC, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOrdinarySouthernGirl/pseuds/NoOrdinarySouthernGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is the assassin?<br/>Who is the target?<br/>Who will remember come tomorrow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's who?

Sherlock had gone to bed first for once and John sat in his chair reading. His phone beeped to signal midnight and the hint of a new day - 'Friday the 13th' it read. His phone rang. The book fell unnoticed to the floor.

John entered the building as quietly as he could manage. He'd received a call from his employer- no, not the hospital, the other one - that his mark had arrived in London. This was his chance. 

Creeping to the second floor landing, he stopped and listened. The sound of late night telly could be heard from through the wooden door. Pulling out kit he'd  _borrowed_ from Sherlock, he picked the lock, something he knew long before he met the detective. 

Having returned the kit to his back pocket, he reached for his Browning with his left hand while carefully opening the door with his right. In his line of work, one had to be cautious and quick. Even with this dodgy leg, his boss still trusted him with the job.

The former soldier moved inch by inch across the entrance hall towards the small light emanating from the living room. Raising the gun higher, he stepped through the arch way and stood near the couch half in shadow, half out.

“Watson.”

“Moran.”

“Seems we are at a stand-off.”

“Looks like it.”

Sebastian had his own pistol in one hand pointed at John. A glass of whiskey in the other. He nodded.

John’s gun was still trained on the other man as he asked, “Who called you?”

“Jim. You?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course.” Using his weapon, Moran motioned towards the tumbler sitting on the coffee table. “Drink?”

John lowered his Browning enough to retrieve the glass. He sipped it and asked, “So which of us is the target here?”

The stone-faced sniper raised an eyebrow, “I think the better question is which one of is suppose to be the assassin.” Taking another gulp of his own drink, “Or which one of us will remember this tomorrow.”

“Ah.” John downed his whiskey as Sebastian clicked the telly off.

The room went dark.

One shot.

A phone rang.

“It’s done.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt for SFPAC. A little late, but this was for the Friday the 13th prompt.


End file.
